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"Let me tell you then that it could only be one person. It never was but one person. It never could have been but one person. It is you." Then he put his hand well on his heart. "Me!" said Miss Boncassen, choosing to be ungrammatical in order that he might be more absurd. "Of course it is you.
I could talk more freely to you than to any one else, but I won't talk about that even to you. As regards Miss Boncassen, I think that any man might marry her, without discredit. I won't have it said that she can be inferior to me, or to anybody." There was a steady manliness in this which took Lady Mabel by surprise.
But in her present phase of life Miss Boncassen suffered no misfortune of this kind. It had become a privilege to be allowed to attend upon Miss Boncassen, and the feeling of this privilege had been enhanced by the manner in which Lord Silverbridge had devoted himself to her. Fashion of course makes fashion.
Boncassen was able to make any efficient answer. Mrs. Boncassen, dear good woman, could see no reason why two young people who loved each other should not be married at once. Dukes and duchesses were nothing to her. If they couldn't be happy in England, then let them come and live in New York. She didn't understand that anybody could be too good for her daughter. Was there not an idea that Mr.
I won't play with you any more, Lord Silverbridge, because I am beginning to think it is unladylike to exert myself." "Are you not glad you came over?" said Lady Mabel to him as he was going off the ground almost without seeing her. "Pretty well," he said. "Is not that better than stalking?" "Lawn-tennis?" "Yes; lawn-tennis, with Miss Boncassen." "She plays uncommonly well." "And so do you."
Boncassen sat next to Lady Cantrip, and when at last he was called upon to give his ear to the Countess, Lady Mary was again vacant for Popplecourt's attentions. "Are you very fond of poetry?" he asked. "Very fond." "So am I. Which do you like best, Tennyson or Shakespeare?" "They are very unlike." "Yes; they are unlike. Or Moore's Melodies?
"That is the only message she will want to hear when she comes home. She is a happy girl and I am proud to think that I should live to call such a grand young Briton as you my son-in-law." Then the American took the young man's two hands and shook them cordially, while Mrs. Boncassen bursting into tears insisted on kissing him.
Of course there had been trumpets. Are there not always trumpets when a marriage is contemplated, magnificent enough to be called an alliance? As for that he himself had blown the trumpets. He had told everybody that he was going to be married to Miss Boncassen. Isabel had blown no trumpets. In her own straightforward way she had told the truth to whom it concerned.
"Tifto says so." "Which at the present moment," asked Miss Boncassen, "is the greater favourite with the public, Madame Scholzdam or Coalheaver?" "Coalheaver is a horse, Miss Boncassen." "Oh, a horse!" "Perhaps I ought to say a colt." "Oh, a colt." "Do you suppose, Dolly, that Miss Boncassen doesn't know all that?" asked Silverbridge.
Longstaff; it's my opinion that a young woman ought not to be pestered." "Pestered!" "You force me to speak in that way. I've given you an answer ever so many times. I will not be made to do it over and over again." "It's that d fellow, Silverbridge," he exclaimed almost angrily. On hearing this Miss Boncassen left the room without speaking another word, and Dolly Longstaff found himself alone.
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